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Right Ho, Jeeves

P. G. Wodehouse









  "Jeeves," I said, "may I speak frankly?"

  "Certainly, sir."

  "What I have to say may wound you."

  "Not at all, sir."

  "Well, then----"

  No--wait. Hold the line a minute. I've gone off the rails.

  I don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I alwayscome up against when I'm telling a story is this dashed difficult problemof where to begin it. It's a thing you don't want to go wrong over,because one false step and you're sunk. I mean, if you fool about toolong at the start, trying to establish atmosphere, as they call it, andall that sort of rot, you fail to grip and the customers walk out on you.

  Get off the mark, on the other hand, like a scalded cat, and your publicis at a loss. It simply raises its eyebrows, and can't make out whatyou're talking about.

  And in opening my report of the complex case of Gussie Fink-Nottle,Madeline Bassett, my Cousin Angela, my Aunt Dahlia, my Uncle Thomas,young Tuppy Glossop and the cook, Anatole, with the above spot ofdialogue, I see that I have made the second of these two floaters.

  I shall have to hark back a bit. And taking it for all in all andweighing this against that, I suppose the affair may be said to have hadits inception, if inception is the word I want, with that visit of mineto Cannes. If I hadn't gone to Cannes, I shouldn't have met the Bassettor bought that white mess jacket, and Angela wouldn't have met her shark,and Aunt Dahlia wouldn't have played baccarat.

  Yes, most decidedly, Cannes was the _point d'appui._

  Right ho, then. Let me marshal my facts.

  I went to Cannes--leaving Jeeves behind, he having intimated that he didnot wish to miss Ascot--round about the beginning of June. With metravelled my Aunt Dahlia and her daughter Angela. Tuppy Glossop, Angela'sbetrothed, was to have been of the party, but at the last moment couldn'tget away. Uncle Tom, Aunt Dahlia's husband, remained at home, because hecan't stick the South of France at any price.

  So there you have the layout--Aunt Dahlia, Cousin Angela and self off toCannes round about the beginning of June.

  All pretty clear so far, what?

  We stayed at Cannes about two months, and except for the fact that AuntDahlia lost her shirt at baccarat and Angela nearly got inhaled by ashark while aquaplaning, a pleasant time was had by all.

  On July the twenty-fifth, looking bronzed and fit, I accompanied aunt andchild back to London. At seven p.m. on July the twenty-sixth we alightedat Victoria. And at seven-twenty or thereabouts we parted with mutualexpressions of esteem--they to shove off in Aunt Dahlia's car to BrinkleyCourt, her place in Worcestershire, where they were expecting toentertain Tuppy in a day or two; I to go to the flat, drop my luggage,clean up a bit, and put on the soup and fish preparatory to pushing roundto the Drones for a bite of dinner.

  And it was while I was at the flat, towelling the torso after amuch-needed rinse, that Jeeves, as we chatted of this and that--pickingup the threads, as it were--suddenly brought the name of GussieFink-Nottle into the conversation.

  As I recall it, the dialogue ran something as follows:

  SELF: Well, Jeeves, here we are, what?

  JEEVES: Yes, sir.

  SELF: I mean to say, home again.

  JEEVES: Precisely, sir.

  SELF: Seems ages since I went away.

  JEEVES: Yes, sir.

  SELF: Have a good time at Ascot?

  JEEVES: Most agreeable, sir.

  SELF: Win anything?

  JEEVES: Quite a satisfactory sum, thank you, sir.

  SELF: Good. Well, Jeeves, what news on the Rialto? Anybody been phoningor calling or anything during my abs.?

  JEEVES: Mr. Fink-Nottle, sir, has been a frequent caller.

  I stared. Indeed, it would not be too much to say that I gaped.

  "Mr. Fink-Nottle?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You don't mean Mr. Fink-Nottle?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "But Mr. Fink-Nottle's not in London?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, I'm blowed."

  And I'll tell you why I was blowed. I found it scarcely possible to givecredence to his statement. This Fink-Nottle, you see, was one of thosefreaks you come across from time to time during life's journey who can'tstand London. He lived year in and year out, covered with moss, in aremote village down in Lincolnshire, never coming up even for the Etonand Harrow match. And when I asked him once if he didn't find the timehang a bit heavy on his hands, he said, no, because he had a pond in hisgarden and studied the habits of newts.

  I couldn't imagine what could have brought the chap up to the great city.I would have been prepared to bet that as long as the supply of newtsdidn't give out, nothing could have shifted him from that village of his.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You got the name correctly? Fink-Nottle?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, it's the most extraordinary thing. It must be five years since hewas in London. He makes no secret of the fact that the place gives himthe pip. Until now, he has always stayed glued to the country, completelysurrounded by newts."


  "Newts, Jeeves. Mr. Fink-Nottle has a strong newt complex. You must haveheard of newts. Those little sort of lizard things that charge about inponds."

  "Oh, yes, sir. The aquatic members of the family Salamandridae whichconstitute the genus Molge."

  "That's right. Well, Gussie has always been a slave to them. He used tokeep them at school."

  "I believe young gentlemen frequently do, sir."

  "He kept them in his study in a kind of glass-tank arrangement, andpretty niffy the whole thing was, I recall. I suppose one ought to havebeen able to see what the end would be even then, but you know what boysare. Careless, heedless, busy about our own affairs, we scarcely gavethis kink in Gussie's character a thought. We may have exchanged anoccasional remark about it taking all sorts to make a world, but nothingmore. You can guess the sequel. The trouble spread,"

  "Indeed, sir?"

  "Absolutely, Jeeves. The craving grew upon him. The newts got him.Arrived at man's estate, he retired to the depths of the country and gavehis life up to these dumb chums. I suppose he used to tell himself thathe could take them or leave them alone, and then found--too late--that hecouldn't."

  "It is often the way, sir."

  "Too true, Jeeves. At any rate, for the last five years he has beenliving at this place of his down in Lincolnshire, as confirmed aspecies-shunning hermit as ever put fresh water in the tank every secondday and refused to see a soul. That's why I was so amazed when you toldme he had suddenly risen to the surface like this. I still can't believeit. I am inclined to think that there must be some mistake, and thatthis bird who has been calling here is some different variety ofFink-Nottle. The chap I know wears horn-rimmed spectacles and has a facelike a fish. How does that check up with your data?"

  "The gentleman who came to the flat wore horn-rimmed spectacles, sir."

  "And looked like something on a slab?"

  "Possibly there was a certain suggestion of the piscine, sir."

  "Then it must be Gussie, I suppose. But what on earth can have broughthim up to London?"

  "I am in a position to explain that, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle confided to mehis motive in visiting the metropolis. He came because the young lady ishere."

  "Young lady?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You don't mean he's in love?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, I'm dashed. I'm really dashed. I positively am dashed, Jeeves."

I was too. I mean to say, a joke's a joke, but there are limits.

  Then I found my mind turning to another aspect of this rummy affair.Conceding the fact that Gussie Fink-Nottle, against all the ruling of theform book, might have fallen in love, why should he have been haunting myflat like this? No doubt the occasion was one of those when a fellowneeds a friend, but I couldn't see what had made him pick on me.

  It wasn't as if he and I were in any way bosom. We had seen a lot of eachother at one time, of course, but in the last two years I hadn't had somuch as a post card from him.

  I put all this to Jeeves:

  "Odd, his coming to me. Still, if he did, he did. No argument about that.It must have been a nasty jar for the poor perisher when he found Iwasn't here."

  "No, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle did not call to see you, sir."

  "Pull yourself together, Jeeves. You've just told me that this is what hehas been doing, and assiduously, at that."

  "It was I with whom he was desirous of establishing communication, sir."

  "You? But I didn't know you had ever met him."

  "I had not had that pleasure until he called here, sir. But it appearsthat Mr. Sipperley, a fellow student with whom Mr. Fink-Nottle had been atthe university, recommended him to place his affairs in my hands."

  The mystery had conked. I saw all. As I dare say you know, Jeeves'sreputation as a counsellor has long been established among thecognoscenti, and the first move of any of my little circle on discoveringthemselves in any form of soup is always to roll round and put the thingup to him. And when he's got A out of a bad spot, A puts B on to him. Andthen, when he has fixed up B, B sends C along. And so on, if you get mydrift, and so forth.

  That's how these big consulting practices like Jeeves's grow. Old Sippy,I knew, had been deeply impressed by the man's efforts on his behalf atthe time when he was trying to get engaged to Elizabeth Moon, so it wasnot to be wondered at that he should have advised Gussie to apply. Pureroutine, you might say.

  "Oh, you're acting for him, are you?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Now I follow. Now I understand. And what is Gussie's trouble?"

  "Oddly enough, sir, precisely the same as that of Mr. Sipperley when Iwas enabled to be of assistance to him. No doubt you recall Mr.Sipperley's predicament, sir. Deeply attached to Miss Moon, he sufferedfrom a rooted diffidence which made it impossible for him to speak."

  I nodded.

  "I remember. Yes, I recall the Sipperley case. He couldn't bring himselfto the scratch. A marked coldness of the feet, was there not? I recollectyou saying he was letting--what was it?--letting something do something.Cats entered into it, if I am not mistaken."

  "Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would', sir."

  "That's right. But how about the cats?"

  "Like the poor cat i' the adage, sir."

  "Exactly. It beats me how you think up these things. And Gussie, you say,is in the same posish?"

  "Yes, sir. Each time he endeavours to formulate a proposal of marriage,his courage fails him."

  "And yet, if he wants this female to be his wife, he's got to say so,what? I mean, only civil to mention it."

  "Precisely, sir."

  I mused.

  "Well, I suppose this was inevitable, Jeeves. I wouldn't have thoughtthat this Fink-Nottle would ever have fallen a victim to the divine _p_,but, if he has, no wonder he finds the going sticky."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Look at the life he's led."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I don't suppose he has spoken to a girl for years. What a lesson this isto us, Jeeves, not to shut ourselves up in country houses and stare intoglass tanks. You can't be the dominant male if you do that sort of thing.In this life, you can choose between two courses. You can either shutyourself up in a country house and stare into tanks, or you can be adasher with the sex. You can't do both."

  "No, sir."

  I mused once more. Gussie and I, as I say, had rather lost touch, but allthe same I was exercised about the poor fish, as I am about all my pals,close or distant, who find themselves treading upon Life's banana skins.It seemed to me that he was up against it.

  I threw my mind back to the last time I had seen him. About two yearsago, it had been. I had looked in at his place while on a motor trip, andhe had put me right off my feed by bringing a couple of green things withlegs to the luncheon table, crooning over them like a young mother andeventually losing one of them in the salad. That picture, rising beforemy eyes, didn't give me much confidence in the unfortunate goof's abilityto woo and win, I must say. Especially if the girl he had earmarked wasone of these tough modern thugs, all lipstick and cool, hard, sardoniceyes, as she probably was.

  "Tell me, Jeeves," I said, wishing to know the worst, "what sort of agirl is this girl of Gussie's?"

  "I have not met the young lady, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle speaks highly of herattractions."

  "Seemed to like her, did he?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Did he mention her name? Perhaps I know her."

  "She is a Miss Bassett, sir. Miss Madeline Bassett."


  "Yes, sir."

  I was deeply intrigued.

  "Egad, Jeeves! Fancy that. It's a small world, isn't it, what?"

  "The young lady is an acquaintance of yours, sir?"

  "I know her well. Your news has relieved my mind, Jeeves. It makes thewhole thing begin to seem far more like a practical working proposition."

  "Indeed, sir?"

  "Absolutely. I confess that until you supplied this information I wasfeeling profoundly dubious about poor old Gussie's chances of inducingany spinster of any parish to join him in the saunter down the aisle. Youwill agree with me that he is not everybody's money."

  "There may be something in what you say, sir."

  "Cleopatra wouldn't have liked him."

  "Possibly not, sir."

  "And I doubt if he would go any too well with Tallulah Bankhead."

  "No, sir."

  "But when you tell me that the object of his affections is Miss Bassett,why, then, Jeeves, hope begins to dawn a bit. He's just the sort of chapa girl like Madeline Bassett might scoop in with relish."

  This Bassett, I must explain, had been a fellow visitor of ours atCannes; and as she and Angela had struck up one of those effervescentfriendships which girls do strike up, I had seen quite a bit of her.Indeed, in my moodier moments it sometimes seemed to me that I could notmove a step without stubbing my toe on the woman.

  And what made it all so painful and distressing was that the more we met,the less did I seem able to find to say to her.

  You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing rightout of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personalitythat paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain tocauliflower. It was like that with this Bassett and me; so much so that Ihave known occasions when for minutes at a stretch Bertram Wooster mighthave been observed fumbling with the tie, shuffling the feet, andbehaving in all other respects in her presence like the complete dumbbrick. When, therefore, she took her departure some two weeks before wedid, you may readily imagine that, in Bertram's opinion, it was not a daytoo soon.

  It was not her beauty, mark you, that thus numbed me. She was a prettyenough girl in a droopy, blonde, saucer-eyed way, but not the sort ofbreath-taker that takes the breath.

  No, what caused this disintegration in a usually fairly fluent prattlerwith the sex was her whole mental attitude. I don't want to wronganybody, so I won't go so far as to say that she actually wrote poetry,but her conversation, to my mind, was of a nature calculated to excitethe liveliest suspicions. Well, I mean to say, when a girl suddenly asksyou out of a blue sky if you don't sometimes feel that the stars areGod's daisy-chain, you begin to think a bit.

  As regards the fusing of her soul and mine, therefore, there was nothingdoing. But with Gussie, the posish was entirely different. The thing thathad stymied me--viz. that this girl was obviously all loaded
down withideals and sentiment and what not--was quite in order as far as he wasconcerned.

  Gussie had always been one of those dreamy, soulful birds--you can't shutyourself up in the country and live only for newts, if you're not--and Icould see no reason why, if he could somehow be induced to get the low,burning words off his chest, he and the Bassett shouldn't hit it off likeham and eggs.

  "She's just the type for him," I said.

  "I am most gratified to hear it, sir."

  "And he's just the type for her. In fine, a good thing and one to bepushed along with the utmost energy. Strain every nerve, Jeeves."

  "Very good, sir," replied the honest fellow. "I will attend to the matterat once."

  Now up to this point, as you will doubtless agree, what you might call aperfect harmony had prevailed. Friendly gossip between employer andemployed, and everything as sweet as a nut. But at this juncture, Iregret to say, there was an unpleasant switch. The atmosphere suddenlychanged, the storm clouds began to gather, and before we knew where wewere, the jarring note had come bounding on the scene. I have known thisto happen before in the Wooster home.

  The first intimation I had that things were about to hot up was a painedand disapproving cough from the neighbourhood of the carpet. For, duringthe above exchanges, I should explain, while I, having dried the frame,had been dressing in a leisurely manner, donning here a sock, there ashoe, and gradually climbing into the vest, the shirt, the tie, and theknee-length, Jeeves had been down on the lower level, unpacking myeffects.

  He now rose, holding a white object. And at the sight of it, I realizedthat another of our domestic crises had arrived, another of thoseunfortunate clashes of will between two strong men, and that Bertram,unless he remembered his fighting ancestors and stood up for his rights,was about to be put upon.

  I don't know if you were at Cannes this summer. If you were, you willrecall that anybody with any pretensions to being the life and soul ofthe party was accustomed to attend binges at the Casino in the ordinaryevening-wear trouserings topped to the north by a white mess-jacket withbrass buttons. And ever since I had stepped aboard the Blue Train atCannes station, I had been wondering on and off how mine would go withJeeves.

  In the matter of evening costume, you see, Jeeves is hidebound andreactionary. I had had trouble with him before about soft-bosomed shirts.And while these mess-jackets had, as I say, been all the rage--_tout cequ'il y a de chic_--on the Cote d'Azur, I had never concealed it frommyself, even when treading the measure at the Palm Beach Casino in theone I had hastened to buy, that there might be something of an upheavalabout it on my return.

  I prepared to be firm.

  "Yes, Jeeves?" I said. And though my voice was suave, a close observer ina position to watch my eyes would have noticed a steely glint. Nobody hasa greater respect for Jeeves's intellect than I have, but thisdisposition of his to dictate to the hand that fed him had got, I felt,to be checked. This mess-jacket was very near to my heart, and I jollywell intended to fight for it with all the vim of grand old Sieur deWooster at the Battle of Agincourt.

  "Yes, Jeeves?" I said. "Something on your mind, Jeeves?"

  "I fear that you inadvertently left Cannes in the possession of a coatbelonging to some other gentleman, sir."

  I switched on the steely a bit more.

  "No, Jeeves," I said, in a level tone, "the object under advisement ismine. I bought it out there."

  "You wore it, sir?"

  "Every night."

  "But surely you are not proposing to wear it in England, sir?"

  I saw that we had arrived at the nub.

  "Yes, Jeeves."

  "But, sir----"

  "You were saying, Jeeves?"

  "It is quite unsuitable, sir."

  "I do not agree with you, Jeeves. I anticipate a great popular successfor this jacket. It is my intention to spring it on the public tomorrowat Pongo Twistleton's birthday party, where I confidently expect it to beone long scream from start to finish. No argument, Jeeves. No discussion.Whatever fantastic objection you may have taken to it, I wear thisjacket."

  "Very good, sir."

  He went on with his unpacking. I said no more on the subject. I had wonthe victory, and we Woosters do not triumph over a beaten foe. Presently,having completed my toilet, I bade the man a cheery farewell and ingenerous mood suggested that, as I was dining out, why didn't he take theevening off and go to some improving picture or something. Sort of olivebranch, if you see what I mean.

  He didn't seem to think much of it.

  "Thank you, sir, I will remain in."

  I surveyed him narrowly.

  "Is this dudgeon, Jeeves?"

  "No, sir, I am obliged to remain on the premises. Mr. Fink-Nottleinformed me he would be calling to see me this evening."

  "Oh, Gussie's coming, is he? Well, give him my love."

  "Very good, sir."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And a whisky and soda, and so forth."

  "Very good, sir."

  "Right ho, Jeeves."

  I then set off for the Drones.

  At the Drones I ran into Pongo Twistleton, and he talked so much aboutthe forthcoming merry-making of his, of which good reports had alreadyreached me through my correspondents, that it was nearing eleven when Igot home again.

  And scarcely had I opened the door when I heard voices in thesitting-room, and scarcely had I entered the sitting-room when I foundthat these proceeded from Jeeves and what appeared at first sight to bethe Devil.

  A closer scrutiny informed me that it was Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed asMephistopheles.